


That Girl

by nonamouse



Category: Queens of the Stone Age, Real Person Fiction, The Desert Sessions
Genre: Gen, Homophobic Slurs, Woke Up A Girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonamouse/pseuds/nonamouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark Lanegan; Genderfuck: you know you love it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Girl

**Author's Note:**

> These people aren't mine, I don't know them, I don't claim to. This is all fiction.

It should have been old hat by now, but waking up a girl for the past two weeks is really starting to make Mark lose his cool. He's back up to almost a pack a day again and he starves for a hit, slouching around in Brody's clothes, which are too big on top and too short on the bottom, hopefully looking surly enough to keep everyone away.

He's failing, though. He knows because every time he growls it comes out all wrong and Brody gives him a big hug and Nick mocks him openly. And Troy is forever offering fashion tips.

"Well, you look like such a dyke!" He says in exasperation.

Mark yanks the barrettes out of his hair and runs his hands through it until it stands more on end than usual.

"You're one to talk," he roars, though it comes out more like a shriek. "You know fuck all about woman's fashion anyway!" And he stomps off trailing ribbons and silk and lace.

Although, he admits to himself, his legs _do_ look better in stockings.

And it's should be enough to still pass as a guy at 6'5", even with the peaches and cream complexion, if he dresses baggy enough. But his shoulders are too narrow and his hips are too wide and his breasts too perky and he keeps running into things with this ungainly, swaying walk that's more a glide than a stride. He can't even go get a pack of cigarettes without people goggling at him.

Look at that fuckin' girl, I wonder if the legs go all the way up.

And Mark doesn't even know what that means. He offers what he hopes is a withering glare, and probably isn't, and finds himself flouncing out of the store. Which totally ruins any sort of intimidating he'd been planning on doing.

But he clearly can't look _that_ much like a dyke. And that makes him smile.

~fin


	2. Don't Dream It...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing adventures of Girl!Mark Lanegan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These people aren't mine, I don't know them, I don't claim to. This is all fiction.

It takes very little convincing to get Brody to help him pick out a bra. In their ever rotating cast of characters, he's the closest to a permanent other girl there's ever been and as rough and tough as Brody is, there are things in the world that only another girl could understand.

Mark gets that now.

They run into Polly Jean at the VC, which is completely surreal, only not because how often does one go bra shopping with Brody Dalle, or, in this case, at all.

"Hello Polly Jean." Mark says, because with him, it's never just Polly, always Polly Jean.

And she eyes him a moment before bursting into laughter. "Oh, Mark, you look horrible in drag." She chides.

Mark feels his face heat. "I'm not in drag." He says softly.

"Oh." Polly Jean replies. "Oh!" And of course she's heard of this happening; don't they read the Weekly World News? They don't. And she stands for a moment, chewing on her bright red lips and looking at them with mild discomfort.

"I didn't mean it, Mark." She says, finally. "You look great." And she is gone in a curly swirl of black hair.

~Fin


	3. My Girl Wants To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These people aren't mine, I don't know them, I don't claim to. This is all fiction.

They'd had to have the skirt made, but even so, Mark felt like it wasn't long enough, like he'd have to spend the entire evening yanking it down and held his breath while Troy laced him into the corset Brody had picked out.

"Why are we doing this again?" He asks.

"Because." Troy replies. "It'll be..." He yanks on the corset strings. "Fun."

Somehow Mark doubts it. But he leans into the mirror and draws kohl around his eyes and paints his lips and feels less like a girl than he probably should considering the circumstances.

The shoes are the crowning touch, patent red heels and Josh found, oddly. Though God only knew where a person could find a pair of size 18 pumps and how Josh, of all people, knew where that place was. But Mark isn't about to turn my nose up as such a gift, not that he needs the extra height, but he teeters around in them passably enough.

He does so now, catching his reflection in the mirror, tattoos and track marks crawling wickedly down his arms. To him, it doesn't inspire much confidence.

But it's too late to back out now.

~Fin


End file.
